Welcome to the New World
by Galligan
Summary: What if the Lone Wanderer and James weren't the only ones to leave Tranquility Lane? The story starts with the Lone Wanderer doing things for the twisted Dr. Braun to get out of Tranquility Lane, such as messing up Roger Rockwell's relationship. Then, the Fail-Safe is entered, saving all but one...
1. Welcome to the New World

"Would you like to buy some lemonade?"

The young boy's voice cut off Janet Rockwell's argument mid-sentence, her sour expression showing no signs of letting up.

"No, thank you." Janet hastily replied, Her glare still aimed at Roger Rockwell, her suspicions about Martha Simpson growing every minute. They've been married for years and now this? How could Roger be cheating, she had been the perfect wife for him, and this is how he treats her?

"Come on Janet, the boy worked hard to make it." Roger said, his eyes still watching Martha as she walked towards her house.

"Roger, your staring again!" Janet cried.

"Gosh Janet, just because I look at someone doesn't mean I want to sleep with 'em!" Roger said, already knowing he would regret what he just said.

"Ugh, Roger I can't believe you!" Janet yelled as she also fled back to their house.

Roger's frustration simmered down, overtaken by bewilderment. Why has she started acting like this? Ever since that one kid talked to her she's been suspicious of everything he does. What was the kid's name again?

"Mr. Rockwell, did you still want that lemonade?" asked Timmy Neusbaum. "I want to show that mean girl Betty that I can get that Red Racer too!"

"No thanks, I've got something else to deal with first." replied Roger, his mind still wondering what that young girl could have said to his wife. He started back towards his house but was interrupted by a series of gunshots and unrecognizable battle cries.

Turning around, Rodger was interrupted with a bullet to the chest. Clutching the wound, he was met with another shot. Falling to the ground, he could just make out what appeared to be a soldier's uniform, but couldn't recognize the red badge with a star on it. The pain was horrible at first, but then it subsided. It felt almost as if he was being set free.

Then everything went black.

* * *

"Ugh…"

Roger awoke in a what appeared to be a human-sized pill, a strange computer hanging in front of him displaying odd sentence fragments.

*RESIDENT: ROGER ROCKWELL; PULSE: ELEVATED*

*ERROR*

*VIRTUAL REALITY: TRANQUILITY LANE FAIL-SAFE MALFUNCTION*

*WARNING: EMERGENCY EXIT ENGAGED, LOUNGE OPENING…*

The lid above him began to glide upwards, pressure releasing from the human container. His senses started to come back, but most his memories were still foggy. What was going on? Where was he? the computer said Tranquility Lane. It must have been some sort of Virtual Reality machine. What was the V.R about? all these things were flying through his head. he could vaguely remember bits and pieces of himself before the V.R. He recalled working as a Computer Engineer for RobCo, helping to engineer the programing for robots. He also remembered enjoying activities like jogging and sport shooting. Everything after that was an a blur, including the Virtual Reality itself, all playing through at once, none of them making sense. Something about a safety vault? Nuclear World War? Was he dead? He certainly didn't appear dead.

"Welcome back Mr. Rockwell, I hope you enjoyed your time in the Lounge." A Robobrain greeter said to him. Suprised, He still marveled at the at how far technology has come in the last couple years. Even more amazed by the fact that he was one of the people to figure it out.

"Where am I and how long have I been in there?" he asked.

"You registered and entered Vault 112 approximately 203.3 years ago. The lounge has preserved your body since you first entered. Your vitals are running at slightly above average levels for a twenty-one year old." The robot replied with its friendly voice.

"By God, its been that long?" he wondered. He imagined all the things humankind could have done in a that amount of time; Images of the future flooded through his mind: Jetpacks, robots with emotions, space colonies. "How do I get out of here?" he thought out loud.

"Proceed up the stairs and follow the hallway until you reach Vault 112's entrance. If you are leaving please wear eyewear, the sun's rays can be harmful to vault resident's eyes. Have a nice day!" The robot answered with a pleasant tone.

Looking down towards his wrist he noticed a Pip-Boy 3000 attached him. The time read 12:30 PM. "I remember these, always thought they were a waste good technology." Roger thought. He observed the rest of the room, spotting several other bodies lying in the other capsules. He thought he recognized one, a young woman, but couldn't put a name on the face. Proceeding up the stairs, he noticed that the vault appeared to lack living quarters.

When he reached the entrance, it was already open. Someone else must have been here! He started to feel some hope as he stepped through the door. That hope was soon replaced with fear.

* * *

Lying by the stairwell on the other side of the door was what appeared to be a giant dead naked mole rat, a pair of large bullet holes appearing in it's side. He stepped over the body, wondering what in God's name could have made something like that, and preceded up the stairwell, glad to be away from whatever that was. But as he entered what seemed to be a car body workshop, he saw another one of those creatures, and his heart skipped a beat. This one's alive, and not to happy to see him.

It was staring at him from across the room, its eyes completely feral, and he knew he only had a limited amount of time until it attacked him. Looking around the room he saw a counter with a knife on it, still sharp from whatever purpose it was used for. The giant mole rat chattered its teeth and charged at him. He immediately ran towards the counter, grabbing for the knife with his shaky hands. Swallowing down his fear, he braced for impact, knowing that one puncture with the mole rat's teeth in his throat would end his short journey. It rammed into him and as it did, he wildly stabbed at it with the knife. As they fell onto the ground it fell on top, his left arm barely able to hold it off him. The creature's teeth still chattered away, shoving the arm out of its face. Roger closed his eyes in fear, waiting for the beast to sink its teeth into him. The bite never came. All that came was a series of gurgling noises, along with a wet dripping sound. He opened his eyes to find the mole rat lying dead with the knife in its side on top of him, bleeding all over his Vault 112 Jumpsuit. He shoved the body off, got up, and staggered to the chair, sitting down with a deep sigh.

His fingers were still shaking, still trying to grasp what just happened. That was the scariest thing Roger has ever done in his entire life, an odd feeling of fear, courage, and sheer amazement at this giant killer rodent. After he regained control of his shivers, he proceeded towards the door, walking as far away from the rodent's corpse as possible. His heart sank as he reached it, realizing that whatever out there might be worse than the rodent he encountered in here. Swallowing hard, he pushed open the heavy steel door.

Light poured through, like opening heaven's door. But some sixth sense told him this wasn't anything like heaven. In fact, it just might be the opposite.

* * *

**I did It! My first published story! I can't tell you how much fun I've had thinking up the plotline for it! And even more fun writing it! Sorry in advance for any grammatical errors and plot holes in the story, I'm kinda thinking it up as I go along. I'm going to try to go for 2 chapters a week (hehe, like that will happen), but that might depend on how my schedule works out.**

**Yea the story is a little far fetched, but I thought why not? I haven't seen many people, well, actually I haven't seen anyone running this storyline, if you do find some please pitch the stories my way so I can read 'em. But I've been thinking about it and thought that someone from Tranquility Lane would be even more surprised to see what he sees than any old Vault Dweller. For some reason that idea grew on me, its almost like having another Lone Wanderer, just starting from somewhere else and he's still completely novice while the actual Lone Wanderer is experienced by now and out doing Lone Wanderer stuff, like saving the wasteland. Anyways feel free to leave a review, it would be much appreciated!**


	2. Everyone's Valuable to Someone

Stepping outside, Roger was struggling to catch his breath. His eyes were having a hard time adjusting to the sun's harmful rays, and when they finally did, he wished he was blind just so he wouldn't have to see what the world had become. What had once been beautiful land filled with trees, animal life, and an abundance of human activity was gone. What replaced it was a desolate atmosphere, filled with nothing but craters and run down roads. Not a single living tree was in sight, instead replaced by dead abominations, a mockery of a past, almost fictional time. There was no jetpacks, emotional robots, and he doubted there were any colonies in space. The remains of this once great and powerful nation were nowhere to be seen. All that replaced it was this… this wasteland. His worst thoughts when he woke from his long, long sleep was true. A nuclear holocaust did happen. And he had survived it, with nothing to prepare him for what was to come.

Roger was having a hard time taking it all in. The shock overwhelming the rest of his emotions, not even able to feel the sadness he knows he should be feeling. Starting up the road, still no sign of life anywhere. Stumbling upon what might have been an old military camp, he went walking up to a tent and peered inside, seeing if anybody, anything, was still there. It was empty, nothing but a bed, table, and an unstable chair, rusted to the roots. Back outside, seeing what appears to be a military truck, he started walking up to it to see any signs of life. There were none.

He sat on the edge of the truck's bed, too astounded to be able to think. Suddenly, tears started flowing, his emotions flooding back. He didn't even know what he was crying for; he could hardly remember anyone or anything of the land before. But he knew it had to be better than this. "There's nothing," Roger thought, his mind racing a million miles an hour. "No people, no animals. I probably killed the only other living thing earth."

* * *

"Hey, wastelander!"

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he turned, surprised to hear another voice. A hulk of a man was jogging towards him, wearing strange armor. As the man got closer, he could see it was old military grade power armor, t-45d variant, but it was painted red and black. He remembered the bullet holes that were in the other mole rat creature. Someone else is alive too!

"Hey! Are you military?" Roger asked, hoping the answer was yes.

The strange soldier ran up right next to him, ignoring the question. He was flanked by another soldier and a Mister Gutsy military robot, also painted red and black. It was pretty clear to Roger that life was still around in this wasteland, albeit changed.

The soldier reached out and grabbed his left arm, inspecting his Pip-Boy.

"Where did you get this?" The soldier asked.

"You didn't answer my question," replied Roger, a hint of frustration and fear in his voice. "Are you United States Military?"

The soldier, still ignoring the question, turned to speak his partner. "He's got what we need, do we take it off here?"

"No," the other soldier replied. She sounded like a young women, but her voice was full of grit. "Our orders were to take the owner of the Pip-Boy back to the Outcast VSS Facility in DC."

"Well then wastelander, it sounds like you're coming with us." said the lead soldier. letting go of Roger's arm, he urged him to move. Roger obeyed, not wanting to anger the heavily armed patrol that seems to have taken him prisoner.

* * *

They walked for a few hours in silence, staring out into the wastes for any signs of movement. Roger broke the silence. "You guys sure don't seem like military, so let's just start with names. I'm Roger Rockwell."

"Well then, Roger," The female soldier said, "Can you tell us how you came across that thing on your arm?"

"If you tell me your name first." He replied.

"You can call me Defender Mcnamera, and him Defender Garcia. We're Brotherhood Outcasts, protecting technology from people like you." replied the female soldier. She turned her head towards him. He could feel her eyes critically inspecting him from behind her helmet. "Did you come from a vault? Your jumpsuit and your smooth skin say yes."

"Yea," replied Roger, feeling rather embarrassed he didn't know much about himself. "I awoke in a place called Vault 112. I don't remember much beyond that. All of this wasteland stuff is still new to me, I guess that's what I get for sleeping 203 years."

"You've been asleep for 203 years?" asked Defender Garcia, a hint of amazement and disbelief in his voice. "How are you not a pile of dust? In fact you look like a young man!"

"I was in this thing a Robobrain called a Tranquility Lounger, apparently it kept me from aging." The whole thing sounded extremely unlikely, but it was all he knew.

"Well then, old man, welcome back to the real world. You'll find that everything isn't all fine and dandy." Said Defender Mcnamera, no emotion expressed in her voice. "People die every day out here, from famine, dehydration, disease, or a bullet to the face."

Roger stopped for a second, thinking about how life was like out here. He couldn't imagine living in an environment like this. And yet here he was, wandering it with 2 armored strangers and a robot.

Suddenly there was a load bang, and the Mister Gutsy fell to the ground. Defender Garcia jumped to the side, grabbing Roger in the process and pulling them both behind cover. The ground where they used to be danced to the sound of assault rifle fire. Over the dust he could see Defender Mcnamera running forward to take cover behind a car.

"Wait here!" the Defender shouted, jumping over the barricade to deal with this threat.

Roger, peaking over the barricade, could just make out the black combat armor of the sniper on the roof of a house, a white symbol on his breastplate shining bright in the sun. There was a slight noise behind him. He turned to find an assault rifle pressed against his chest.

"Well now, if it isn't the little saint from the vault. We've been looking for you. Someone's put quite a price on your head."

* * *

**Phew! Well that was fun! sorry for the slow start, I wanted to try and capture the emotions of what it would be like stepping into a completely different world that was strangely similar. I don't know of any humans (I do know of some ghouls) that were still alive at this time that would have any experiences before the Great War, so I tried to think of what that would feel like. It's hard, but is totally fun to write about. As for the Outcast plot, no I'm not going to take him to the Operation: Anchorage Virtual Reality, but I thought it would be fun to get them involved. The action should start picking up within the next couple chapters (Talon Company's on the hunt!), so stay tuned! And as always, feel free to share your comments, questions, and recommendations! **


	3. Back into the Darkness

"Shh!" the man in black whispered into Roger's ear.

The man turned Roger around, facing him away from the flurry. Gun pressing against his back, he was forced to obey his new captor. The sounds of gunfire still raging over the barricade, Roger tried to peak over to get Defender Garcia's attention. The captor covered Roger's mouth, preventing him from yelling for help, and shoved his gun against him, urging him to move. Starting off down a slope to their left, the gunfire behind them stopped. The lack of noise, clearly worrying his captor, was a pleasant absence for Roger. The gun pressed harder against his back, forcing him into a jog, the captor turning around every couple seconds to see if anyone was looking for them. As they crowned a hill, they were greeted by two more men in black armor, one short, young with a lean build, the other taller and more intimidating. Both were adorned with the white mark he could now see was a claw.

"Hey Maynard! Where's the other guy?" the younger of the two asked, "The one with the sniper?"

"I don't know, but I don't hear gunfire. Assume the worst." replied his captor, a grim look on his face. He noticed a series of scars running down the man's face, but not any normal scars. They looked like claw marks.

"I hope Talon Company splits his pay between us, he knew the dangers when he took the job of being a mercenary." the young man replied.

Well that describes it. Mercenaries. But what would they want with him? Roger's been out for less than a day and he's been captured twice, the power armored group appearing to be friendlier every minute he's with this group.

The taller man, clearly older than the other two, started giving orders. "Forget about him, and forget about the extra pay. We've still got to get out of here. That Outcast patrol is probably wantin' this guy back, and I ain't waiting around to greet 'em. Let's move! We're heading into D.C to deliver the package, so stay alert."

The patrol listened, starting off at a brisk pace towards what appeared to be a destroyed city. Roger let loose a whimper when he saw the devastation up close. The buildings were all but destroyed, the remains of this once great nation's capital reminded him of his trips to the Museum of History, staring at great beast's from long ago that have been reduced to dirt and bone. The sight was horrendous, but one thing he spotted gave him a sliver of hope. Above all the wreckage, the Washington Monument was still standing, a defiant sign that not everything was lost.

* * *

After they crossed a bridge leading into the city, the lead mercenary's hand flew up, stopping the company.

"What is it sarge?" the younger mercenary asked.

"It's a group of super mutants, one of 'em appears to have a minigun," the older merc replied, a look of fatigue on his face. Roger looked forward towards the road, What he saw made his heart skip a beat. Standing about 100 yards ahead of them were 3 giant green beasts, humanoid in structure, but they were completely composed of muscle. Two of them were holding sledgehammers like they were a small stick you would find in your backyard. The third one was toting a huge chain gun, holding it as if weighed nothing. Roger couldn't see how anything could stand up to something like that. Luckily, they haven't been noticed yet.

"Well that's the only road leading where were going, unless we take another route." Maynard, Roger's captor, replied. "And the only other route is through the tunnels."

"Well shit, stuck between a rock and a hard place, huh?" The older merc said. "We take the tunnels. At least down there we have a chance of making it. There's no way we're takin' out that minigun wit' just the three of us and an unarmed man." The party snuck towards the station's entrance, opening the door with a creak. They advanced one by one into the waiting darkness.

* * *

The group entered what appeared to be the old Farragut West metro station. The metro's lights flickered, the dim shine barely enough to light their way. Entering what appeared to be an admissions office, the lights were out completely, forcing the mercs to turn on headlights. They went through all the offices, the look on their faces reminding Roger of a little kid going through a particularly scary haunted house. They found the exit to the offices and came across a room separated by a large fence, the lock on it busted.

The team opened the fence and closed it behind them. The fence pulled shut, but the lower hinge broke, a subtle sign that going back was not an option now. As the rest of the mercs advanced, Roger couldn't help but notice a glimmer in the corner of his eye, like water. But the water was red? No, that couldn't be right. He was shoved forward by the young mercenary before he could get a closer look.

As they approached another doorway leading into the subway, they heard a strange croaky hiss. Everyone stopped, the mercenaries shouldering their weapons.

"Private, check to see what that noise was." The leader ordered.

The young man slowly started walking towards the doorway, his shaking arms having a hard time keeping the gun steady. He slowly stepped outside, first checking ahead, then the left, then the right.

"All clear sarge," the young mercenary replied. "There's nothin' but the dark-"

A creature grabbed him by the collar and dragged him off to the left. The young mercenary screamed and fired a wasted shot, then was out of view. The two other mercenaries ran out the door to the left, shouting after the younger mercenary. Roger ran through the doorway and hid in the subway's ticket booth, waiting for the mercenaries to come back. The sound of gunfire grew fainter, then louder, followed by a horrendous scream.

"Vault Dweller!" Roger heard a voice calling from down the hall. It was the older man's voice, but full of terror. "Where are you? we need to get out of here!"

Running from the tunnel he saw the old Talon Company merc, his body covered in blood. Chasing after him was a mob of… monsters. They were humanoid, but their faces, their skin, reminded him of an old horror movie. They looked like zombies, people from long ago come to life by some black magic. The mercenary ran straight past the booth and through the doorway, followed by a dozen of the shriveled horrors, all running just slightly faster than him. Roger heard the impact of something hitting a chain fence, followed by a few gunshots.

The cry that came after chilled Roger to the bone. Instead of running towards the scream, he immediately got up and ran towards the subway tunnel, whatever they had done to the mercenaries, he didn't want it happening to him. He passed by the dead body of the young mercenary, the man's head twisted in an odd position. He reached down and relieved the body of its rifle, then continued his run down the long tunnel. He flicked on his Pip-Boy light to discover the tunnel devoid of the monsters, the eerie silence almost scarier than having something there.

Running around the wreckage of trains and debris, he came across another subway station. He couldn't see any sign of the mercenary with the scars. Looking up, he saw a glimmer of light coming from a pathway above him. A way out! He ran up the motionless escalator, and followed the signs towards the surface. There was slight movement around the next turn.

Reaching out from a corner was the hand of one of those zombies. It found Roger's arm and gripped tightly, its nails digging into his skin. He winced in pain, but was able to get enough room to kick the creature, releasing it's grip. He let off a series of bullets into its chest, the force of the rounds throwing the monster to the ground.

Roger didn't wait to see if the creature got back up. He ran towards the light of the entrance, panicking once he realized what he just caused. Down the hall he could hear the cries and wails of the creature's brothers, angered by the noise. Struggling to get the gate open, the cries were getting louder. The gate slowly started to open, bathing the entrance in sunlight. The creatures rounded the corner, a dozen of them charging full tilt at him.

Looking up the staircase, he was met by the steady gaze of a young blonde woman clad in power armor, flanked by platoon of soldiers in armor, gleaming in the sunlight. The small army opened fire on the horde of monstrosities, laying them to waste with energy weapons. All that was left of the killer horde were piles of ash. The woman's eyes didn't leave his for a second while the battle raged around them.

"Well," the blonde power armored woman said to him. "you're not who I was expecting."


	4. The Good Fight

**Sorry for the long hiatus everybody! School picked up over the last few weeks and I got absolutely slammed with work. The workload seems to be letting off a little bit, so I should be able to be writing about every 2 weeks instead of every week. Anyways, Enjoy!**

* * *

Defender Mcnamera stepped over the body of a Super Mutant, the body scorched where laser rifle blasts had found their target.

"Any signs of more muties, Garcia?" Mcnamera asked, taking a break to sip some of the purified water they brought with them. She wondered how their easy escort mission had turned into a full-fledged hunt. Leave it to Talon Company to mess things up.

"It's all clear." Defender Garcia replied.

"Alright, gather the others and prepare to head into the tunnels." Mcnamera ordered. "We're going to scout as close as we can to GNR, but don't engage our Brothers if possible. We are not prepared to start a war. Not yet."

Garcia ordered their new patrol into formation. Two other outcasts had joined them for this mission.

"If by some chance you get into trouble and conflict is unavoidable, remember, they have deserted the Brotherhood cause." Mcnamera said. "And the true Brotherhood does not show mercy."

* * *

Roger and his 'companions', the Brotherhood soldiers, walked through a destoyed office building, their weapons at the ready. Their leader, Sentinel Sarah Lyons, turned to Roger with a curious face.

"So what is a fresh-faced Vault Dweller doing in the heart of the D.C ruins?" Sarah asked.

"Well, let's just say I'm probably going to set the world record for most times captured in one day. And that's not including whatever this is." Roger replied. This whole prisoner thing was getting a little old.

These soldiers, who call themselves the Brotherhood of Steel, said they were taking him to a place called Galaxy News Radio to help repair a radio station after he told them about his computing experience. Truthfully, he doesn't know that much about radio stations, but he didn't seem in a place to argue.

"You are not a prisoner." Sarah sneered. "You're welcome to leave anytime you want, just follow your way back into the tunnel full of feral ghouls. And after you waltz your way through, politely ask the Super Mutants on the other side if you can pass by."

"I think I'll stay with you guys, you know, to help. This is out of my own free will, for the record." Roger said.

"Good," Sarah said. "The more people to fight the Good Fight, the better. We already have one scientist helping to fix the station, but the more the merrier."

"The Good Fight?" Roger asked.

"The Good Fight is the belief that anyone can contribute to the fight to free the Capital Wasteland of evil like the Super Mutants, and to provide encouragement to everyone struggling to see another day. At least that's what Three Dog, the radio station's host, preaches." Sarah said.

Roger liked the idea of the Good Fight. The fact that someone is telling people the idea that anyone, no matter how big or small, can contribute to making a better world, whether that's fighting the monsters or something as simple as helping your neighbor with his chores, showed that humanity is long but extinct, even if the old world is.

They approached the radio station, the front door guarded by half a dozen Brotherhood soldiers, with a dozen more watching from the windows above. The building appeared to be mostly intact, which Roger thought was amazing considering that everything around it was all but rubble.

"Hail Sentinel Lyons, anything to report?" One of the Brotherhood said.

"Hail, Paladin. Nothing of value." She replied, and then turned to face Roger. "Well Vault Dweller, this is where we part ways. Lyon's pride has got places to be. Maybe one day our paths will cross again, hopefully you will be able to defend yourself next time."

"Thank you Ms. Lyons, but I hope I won't need to defend myself anytime soon." Roger replied.

"Unless you plan on climbing back into a vault and locking yourself up," She said coldly. "I have a feeling you'll be defending yourself sooner or later, whether you want to or not."

* * *

Walking into the radio station, he was greeted by a trio of Paladins. The interior was set up like it was preparing for an invasion, not to be taking in guests.

"Continue up the stairs and through the center door, sir." The closest one ordered.

Roger obeyed, proceeding up to an upper balcony. Walking towards the door he ran into a man in a in a vault suit and science coat.

"Well now, another Vault Dweller?" The man said.

"That's what everyone calls me. The name's Roger Rockwell." Roger replied. "And you are?"

"James, it's a pleasure. Did they ask you to help with the radio problem?" He asked.

"They sure did, although 'ask' may not be the correct term. More like 'recruit'." Roger replied.

James let off a pleasant laugh. "Don't worry, I've already fixed the radio problems. The Brotherhood of Steel can be a little militaristic sometimes, but their heart is in the right place. They are the only group in the entirety of the Capital Wasteland out here risking their lives to protect the innocent, so I guess they've earned the right."

"So kind of like a police force for the people huh?" Roger said.

"More like a noble knight fighting against all odds." James replied. "But if enough people thought like they do, the Wasteland would soon become a functioning community instead of a free-for-all. Three-Dog, the owner of the radio station, helps fuel the idea of a united Wasteland by preaching the Good Fight. As for me, I plan to leave my little mark by purifying the Wastes."

"Purifying the Wastes?" Roger asked.

"I have built a machine, one I named Project Purity, to clean all the waters in the D.C area, such as the Potomac River. Currently it is non-functioning, but that will change soon, with the help of a few fellow scientists and my daughter. It should be up and running within days." James said. "We're just waiting for my daughter to get back from assisting the Brotherhood Outcasts with a little problem of theirs. Turning into quite a fighter, she is."

"It sounds like an interesting project. Could you use any help? I'm pretty adept at mechanics and robots. Maybe I could help make some building bots or something." Roger said. "It would be better than trying to find something to do in the middle of this mess, anyways."

"That would be great! We could always use more help. Actually, if you know a thing or two about robotics, you could help us set up some sort of defensive system." James replied. "The Brotherhood isn't going to be providing any sort of armed support for a while, so a little defense would be great. Tell you what, I'm planning on heading back over to the Purifier in a few minutes, if you want to head back with me we could chat, maybe share a few stories. I'm sure a young man such as yourself has a few to share."

"Alright! I'm ready to head over whenever you are." Roger replied.

"Okay, just give me a few moments to say goodbye to Three-Dog. You should talk to the Brotherhood and see if they can provide any sort of support. Just say you are with James. They should have something for you."

* * *

"So your heading over with James than, huh?" The Paladin said. "Well I can't spare any men right now for a transport. But I do have some equipment."

"That would be great! The last thing I want is to come across one of those Mutants or Ghouls and not be armed." Roger said, the thought of the Ghouls still fresh in his mind.

"Well here. We have an extra assault rifle and laser pistol along with some extra magazines. You wouldn't happen to know how to wear Power Armor, would you Vault Dweller?" The Paladin asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I know how to put it on and run it, if that's what you mean." Roger replied.

"Well", the paladin replied, surprised in his response. "It's your lucky day. We have an extra set of non-Brotherhood Power Armor we found in the ruins. It's yours to use. There's no one else around out here to use it." The Paladin said. He was more than a little impressed that a wastelander knew how to use Power Armor.

"Thanks."

Suiting up, the armor made him feel like a giant. The armor's power-assist gave him superior strength, allowing him to wear the heavy metal suit that was practically bulletproof. He held the helmet at his side as James came to meet him at the front door.

"Well, inducted you into the Brotherhood have they?" James joked. The man seemed smaller now that Roger was wearing the suit. "I guess any raider will think twice before trying to attack us."

"It's been awhile since I've worn one of these, at least I think its been awhile, I'm not really sure." Roger replied. The weight of the Chinese Assualt Rifle in his hands was practically weightless. He hung it over his shoulder and holstered the laser pistol. "Are we ready to go? To tell you the truth, I really want to see something that's capable of purifying an entire river."

"Yea, I'm ready." James said. He stared up and down at Roger, inspecting him. "You remind me of my daughter."

"How so?" Roger asked, a little perplexed by the statement.

"I'm not sure, maybe it's the way you seem eager to see new things. Soon you'll get to meet her, so you can see what I'm talking about." James replied. "Anyways, let's be off."

As Roger slipped the armor's helmet on, James pushed the front door open. The soldiers outside stepped aside to let them through. The sound of the soldier's radio played behind them.

"Hey everybody, this is Three Dog, your friendly neighborhood disc jockey. What's a disc? Hell if I know, but I'm gonna keep talking anyway! How many Vault Dwellers does it take to fix a radio station? Don't know? The answer's two! If you people way up north can here me, you can thank our friend James for that. His daughter, the goodie kid from Vault 101, had fixed it once, but I guess it takes 2 Vault Dwellers to fix good ol' GNR! Until next time, this is Three Dog, Awooooo! and you're listening to Galaxy News Radio. Bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts. And now, some music."

As they walked, Roger thought about just what the purifier is, and looked over at James. He walked beside a man that has big dreams of helping people. And somehow he knew that nothing was going to keep James from that goal, not even death itself. This is a man fighting for what he believes in. This is a man fighting the Good Fight.


	5. Wishing for a Nuclear Winter

**So... about that post every two weeks... I don't think that's gunna happen. While I will be updating as soon as possible, its really hard to get it set to a schedule. It seems like whenever I get the "Feel" to write, something pops up like school or that unfamiliar thing they call life. Then when I do get time, the Feel is gone and I can't get a train of thought going save my life (still unfamiliar with this term). So updates will be coming sporadically, but believe me, they will come so don't lose hope :)**

**Anyways, like always I hope you enjoy the chapter and feel free to leave reviews!**

* * *

The area around her smelled of blood. No matter how many times she smelt it, Lucia didn't get any more used to it. Her stomach still lurched as if she were still a child from Vault 101. It didn't bother her as much as the sight, but it still wasn't pleasant.

"I am in your debt Vault Dweller," Protector Mcgraw said, applying a stimpack to his wounded arm. It looked like the Power Armor had absorbed the grunt of the assault, but not even it could go completely unscathed after being bombarded with minigun fire; there were various dents and cuts in the metal. "As I said before, you're free to take what you want from the armory. You should be ready to wear the Power Armor in there with what you just learned. We have to clean up the mess these traitors have made of the facility, but if you ever find yourself in the area again, don't hesitate to stop by. I think you have earned that at least, for all you have done for us."

"Thank you Defender, I'll see if there is anything else I want." she replied. "If I knew you guys were going to throw a party when I came out, I would have dressed for the occasion. There was a nice white 'dress' waiting for me in there that would have been perfect."

After the feeling of adrenaline subsided, Lucia felt a sharp pain shooting up her leg. One of the Outcast's minigun rounds had found a mark in her thigh, tearing through the Neural Interface Suit she wore in the Anchorage simulation. She found it ironic that she had just went through a war simulation, and the bullet she ended up getting hit by was waiting for her back in the real world. After taking a med-x and sticking a stimpack into her thigh, she took off the suit and adorned her leather armor she had gotten from besting a particularly violent wanderer. Walking towards the armory, she contemplated looting the dead Outcast bodies. She concluded that that was probably not a good idea, considering that they had just mutinied against Defender Mcgraw, who was still standing nearby. She entered the armory, continuing her search that had been interrupted by the gunfight only moments before. She took the various medical supplies and ammunition when she came across a strange black suit. Grabbing the rest of the microfusion cells, she noted that that was the suit the Chinese assassins were wearing in the simulation. Next to it was a Chinese sword with a dangerous looking glow to it, something she could find a use for. She took a final glance at the heavy, white-toned Winterized Power Armor, wishing she had brought Charon along to carry it for her. Her personal ghoul servant and friend would do it, since she did own his contract, but his complaints were something she would have to deal with the entire trip back. She didn't really want to wear it; every mutant in D.C would see the glinting white armor and come running towards it, guns a blazing. She mostly just wanted to add to her collection of stuff. Maybe next time.

When she reached the surface, she was glad that the rest of the Outcasts hadn't also decided to open fire. Checking over her equipment, she fixed a sight onto her Lincoln Repeater and made sure her silenced 10mm pistol wasn't locked in its holster. Lucia exited the way she came in, the Outcasts watching her as she went. She realized how excruciatingly hot it had gotten since she went inside, heightening the smell of the mutant carcasses she and the Outcasts created on the way to the facility. It was a long walk back to her father's Purifier, and after staying for what seemed like days in a virtual frozen wasteland, the heat almost made her wish for a nuclear winter.

* * *

Roger took another sip from his water battle and scanned their surroundings, trying to spot what James saw.

"Are you sure you saw it?" Roger asked.

"The glint sure made it seem like Power Armor." James replied.

Roger looked back to where James thought he saw the sliver of Power Armor. There wasn't a sign of anything but wrecked cars and the glint of broken glass.

"Well maybe it was a Brotherhood patrol."

"Probably. Or it could just be my eyes playing tricks on me. The D.C ruins always struck me as a peculiar place. So devoid of life, yet so full of danger." James said, his eyes still looking in the direction of the occurrence.

"The place sure gives me the creeps. Maybe not as much as the dark tunnels, but still pretty freaky." Roger said. "Anyways, I don't really want to wait around to get attacked by who-knows-what, so we should head back into the dark, Ghoul infested train station." The last sentence came out as more of a whimper, his previous memories of the terminal still fresh in his mind.

They continued into the recently emptied Friendship Metro Station, the ashes of the ghouls still simmering from roger's earlier struggle. The path was the only thing keeping them from getting out of the horrific heart of the D.C ruins. And the only way to get past the path was to cross it.

* * *

Defender Garcia watched from behind cover as the Brotherhood soldier and the Vault Dweller went into the metro tunnels. He wondered what kind of things the Brotherhood would want from a Vault Dweller. The only thing Garcia thought they were good for was that overrated watch on their wrists. Turning around to rejoin the Outcast patrol that was keeping watch of the Galaxy News Radio Station, he was greeted with a group of laser rounds to his stomach. The Power Armor took the majority of the heat, but he could tell some of the lasers had made it through; the pain from a laser is unlike any other, a feeling of scorched heat that never seemed to let up, getting more painful every second after the it lands, leaving a nasty scar that never fades. He immediately leaped down behind a concrete barrier, looking to were the shot came from.

"Shit."

Directly in front of him was a Super Mutant Master and a centaur. His peak over the barrier was greeted with another burst of laser fire, forcing him back down. Since when did Super Mutants carry laser weapons? And not just any ordinary laser weapon, but a tri-beam rifle? Not even the Brotherhood regularly stocked weapons like that.

He stood up and took aim at the centaur's head. The centaur had to be dealt with first; while not extremely dangerous, it could get in a lucky shot with its radioactive spit while he's busy fighting the mutant.

He fired a well-aimed laser round to the creature's head. The centaur was reduced to a pile of ash.

The Super Mutant bellowed out in rage, angered at the death of its pet. The mutant redoubled its efforts, firing haphazardly at the Outcast.

Garcia ducked back into cover, waiting for the mutant to have to reload. After the sound of laser fire ceased, he leaped over the barricade. As he ran towards the Super Mutant, he laid three laser rifle rounds into its midsection. It didn't get the desired effect he wanted. He hated Super Mutant Masters.

The Super Mutant hadn't bellowed over like he wanted. Instead, it took the shots, almost unaffected to the gaping scorch marks in its side, and readied its Tri-Beam as the Outcast got closer.

As the Mutant let loose its lasers, Garcia attempted to guess where the shots were aiming. He was able to dodge a couple shots, but a third shot hit him in the chest, all three lasers striking the Power Armor, scorching right through it and flaying his tender skin underneath.

The Defender pushed through the pain and kept charging towards the Super Mutant. As he got closer, he reached down the side of his leg and pulled out a trench knife.

The Super Mutant dropped the rifle and swung a wild fist at the Outcast as the man ran towards it. Garcia ducked under the hand and plunged the blade in the creature's side. The Super Mutant jerked with pain as he pulled the knife out, become more aware of how much of a danger this seemingly puny man was.

Through the pain, the Master turned to face the Outcast and grabbed the man's neck with its titanic hands. The mutant lifted the man high into the air, tensing his muscles to break his little neck. Before he could, Garcia swung the blade upwards, piercing the bottom of the Super Mutant's head.

The mutant went limp, dropping Defender Garcia to the ground. He took a second to catch his breath, checked to make sure the Super Mutant was dead, then leaned over to pick up the Master's rifle to bring back with him to Fort Independence for inspection.

As the Defender got up, he heard the sounds of running footsteps from behind. A large shadow blocked out the sun behind him. He turned around just in time to catch a glimpse of the Super Sledge coming down on his head.


End file.
